


Go Home, Damon, You're Drunk

by Hattingmad



Category: The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: Dubcon if you squint, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 08:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattingmad/pseuds/Hattingmad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fix-it fic for late S1-early S2. In which Damon is sozzled, Elena gets her head out of denial's ass, and there is wisdom of the late-night variety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Home, Damon, You're Drunk

 

"You're a liar, Elena. There's something between us, and you're lying to yourself and to me if you tell me there isn't."

 

Damon, inside her bedroom, desperation etched in his every feature.

 

(When Elena had pictured how her night would go, this hadn't even made the list.)

 

"Whoa, whoa, wait. What's this about? Damon, are you drunk?"  She holds up her hands, warding him off as the vampire advances.

 

(She had pictured Cherry Garcia, and sweatpants, and calls to Bonnie.)

 

"I'm often drunk."

 

(Definitely not an aggressive Salvatore brother with a blood-alcohol-content level that had to be approaching the 1:1 ratio.)

 

"No, I mean _really_ drunk.  I'm shocked you're still standing. What happened?"

 

(Looking back on it, Elena can see how this was a stupid question. It doesn't exactly take a rocket scientist to puzzle out the inner workings of Damon's deranged mind.)

 

The vampire sits there, on her bedspread, making tiny origami cranes out of a piece of paper he pulled from her journal and then shredding them.

 

(Admittedly, the origami throws her for a bit of a loop.)

 

"Damon, talk to me.  We're friends and I care about you, and this? This is _weird_." She says it all in a rush, before the clue-by-four hits her in the face and she wises up.

"Was it Katherine? Did she do something?"

 

He pulls the wings off a crane, viciously.

 

"Say something?"  Elena winces at the paper carnage.

 

He looks up, and his eyes are as anguished as she's ever seen them.

 

(Bloodthirsty sociopath Damon she can handle. Damon with puppy dog eyes? Stefan really should have warned her about this.)

 

"She told me she never loved me. That it was always Stefan." He says it almost tonelessly. "I've been looking for her for 146 years and...it was never me."

 

Elena gasps and sits down heavily on the bed next to him.

 

"Oh, my god, Damon..."  She holds him to her without thinking, squeezing as tightly as her human strength will allow. She strokes his hair, whispering over and over again, "That bitch, that utter, utter bitch, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry..."

 

"But you aren't her, Elena," Damon says quietly, resting his forehead against hers. The shredded paper cranes flutter out of his hands around them.  "You can't tell me it's always been Saint Stefan. I _know_ , Elena. I know I affect you.  I know you want me."

 

"I don't---" she begins uneasily.

 

"Vampire, Elena. I can smell your arousal."

 

(This moment will hang in the Hall of Mortifying Facts about Elena Gilbert's Sad Life for eternity, she's sure of it.)

 

"Oh, EW," she groans. "Can I just crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment now? Also--side note--I am going to _murder_ Stefan for not sharing that particular detail with me."

 

Damon laughs softly.

 

"There. You see? At least your body is honest with me. Just... let me... _please_..." His hand cups her cheek as his head moves toward hers. She hears herself moan softly.

 

(The begging is totally cheating, by the way. Especially in that tone of voice. Elena can't, she just _can't_ , and she should get a medal for her self-restraint.)

 

She shakes herself and puts a finger to his lips.

 

"No, that's..."

 

"No?" His thumb brushes back and forth over her lower lip.  She wants, suddenly, to lick it, suck it into her mouth and... talk about bizarre urges!

 

Damon's nostrils flare slightly, and he smirks.  Elena feels herself turning purple, but she works up a haughty glare anyway and points it at him.

 

"You're a pig. And you're very, very drunk."

 

"Hmm." He hums, amused.

 

Her tongue flicks out, damn her treacherous body, and briefly touches his thumb. God but he tastes good. Damon's smirk only grows, and he leans toward her again.

 

With a herculean effort, Elena wrenches herself away. WHY it should take a herculean effort to resist a man who wasn't her boyfriend kissing her, she doesn't dare think about. 

 

(If she thinks about it, she'll have to do something about it. And doing something about it will hurt.)

 

"I don't want you doing anything you'll regret. Come back when you're sober if you still want to do this."  She wants to chase the words back as soon as they slip past her lips. But there's no way Damon isn't taking  _that_ bait.

 

He holds her at arm's length, looking at her intently.

 

"And you'll let me kiss you? And prove I'm right? And you won't lie if you feel something? You'll tell me? Without me taking off your pretty necklace and making you?"

 

Elena closes her eyes and swallows hard.

 

(Doomed, she's doomed, and she doesn't even have good intentions or a handbasket to stop her slide. There's no excuse, none at all. She hates herself.)

 

"Just once. ONE kiss. And then you'll stop obsessing over this just because Katherine hurt you, and we can go back to being friends."  She blinks. Damon is already gone.

 

She flops back on the bed and sighs.  _Shit, shit, shit._

 

"What am I doing?" She moans.  Then, with a surge of panic-fueled mania, she begins to raid her closet.

 

"I should wear hideous sweats! He can't get the wrong impression if I...no, then he'll think I'm trying too hard.  But I can't wear _this_...maybe if I just brazen it out in a turtleneck...no, that'd definitely send the wrong message..."

 

* * *

 

Not fifteen minutes later, a weight settles on the bed next to her. 

 

"Why, Elena, you dressed up for me!"  He sounds positively delighted, damn him.

 

"Damon? That was...fast."

 

"I didn't want to give you time to change your mind."

 

(She hates him for knowing her that well. She can't hate him, because she's always known he was a bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling.)

 

She examines him critically.

 

"Well, you certainly _look_ better."

 

"And now you're afraid. But not of me. ...of hurting me?" Elena shakes her head.

 

"Of...what this could do to Stefan?"

 

She shakes her head again.

 

"Of...what you might feel when we do this," he says, wonderingly. She begins to shake her head again, but he stops her.

 

"Ah-ah-ah, you said no more lying."

 

"Yes, Damon. I'm afraid of myself. This was a spectacularly bad idea, and I don't think--"

 

"Don't think, then. This is just me, Elena. You know me. Though I admit my roguish charm can be overwhelming at times..." She stifles an inelegant snort, rolling her eyes.

 

"That's better."  He pulls her against him, her back flush to his chest, and wraps his arms around her, head resting on her shoulder.

 

(She tries to tense up but her heart's not in it. Damon isn't dangerous, not to her, at least not in the ways he should be. Only in the ways he can't be, and she settles down against him.)

 

"Let's do this another way. I'm going to tell you a story."

 

"Um..."

 

"Just hush and listen. Once upon a time there was a monster who lived in a castle.  He had been cursed to never find peace until he found his true love, but who could ever love a monster?"

 

"Uh, Damon, I'm familiar with Beauty and the Beast."

 

"Not like this you're not, and it's _my_ story. No interruptions from the peanut gallery unless I say so." He nips her shoulder with blunt teeth.

 

"Alright, alright, I get it. My lips are zipped."

 

"Good. Now, where was I..."

 

* * *

 

"And the monster knew her heart was torn, and that she could never break his curse, no matter what he wished. So he pleaded with her for one kiss to take to his grave, before she left him forever, for she could only save one of them. And he was only a monster.  But she shook her head, and--"

 

"No!" Elena says loudly, surprising even herself, wrenching around out of his grip. She's been very quiet up till now, leaning against Damon and listening to the cadence of his voice.  "She's wrong!"

 

"And how's that, lovely?" He raises an eyebrow. "Did you want to tell the story instead of me? Because this is how it goes..."

 

"Well, it shouldn't!" Elena huffs. "It shouldn't go that way! How can she not see that he's obviously her true love? It doesn't matter if he's a monster! He loves her so much...how can she not reciprocate? She has to kiss him! She just has to! It is seriously and literally the least she can do!"  She's worked herself up into a real snit, now, all pursed lips and righteous indignation.

 

"Is it?" He looks at her steadily.

 

(And the trap springs shut.)

 

"Of course it... _oh_..."

 

She could never say, afterward, who bent toward whom first.  All she knows is that she was held captive in his ocean-blue eyes, and then his lips were on hers, and she was kissing him, and her arms were around his neck, and his were in her hair, and she was melting, melting into his mouth, making desperate little mewling noises because she needed to be _closer_ and it felt so right, and then she was in his lap, and his tongue was doing amazing things to hers, and when she finally came up for air, the tenderness and amazement in his gaze nearly killed her.

 

(That's what she remembers, anyway.)

 

She draws in a shaky breath. "Oh my god," she says, trembling all over.

 

"What is it?"  His brows draw down in concern, waiting for her to slap him, push him away, say hateful things, no doubt.

 

"I was... that was... you were... oh my god," she stammers, spitting out the words like she can't get them out fast enough. "I'm...Damon, I think I'm..." Her eyes grow wide as saucers. She touches his cheek.

 

(Well, shit.)

 

"I think I'm in love with you."

 

 


End file.
